Lykoi Larceny

by Katherine Hayton

  “Now, if I’m still sitting here watching videos in another hour, give me a poke,” she instructed the chocolate Persian before pressing play on a display of Lykoi kitten adorability. From there, she read an article about the new breed.

  Although she checked through every recent post on the page and followed links off-site into uncharted internet waters, Marjorie couldn’t find any information about potential buyers. If they had expressed an interest on the page, they must have been directed to a private message conversation. Either that, or there was no interest at all, which seemed unlikely given the amount of likes each post attracted.

  “It looks like I’ll have to send her a message,” Marjorie said while giving Monkey a cuddle. “Fingers crossed she checks her other folder.”

  With the enquiry sent, she promptly played every video linked to the page again. “Just to be thorough,” she explained when the Persian yawned.

  With her curiosity sated, Marjorie sent a quick text to Braden to assure herself the real kitten was doing just as well as the videoed ones. An image was sent back to her—Braden with the Lykoi perched on his head. Not the recommended position for a cuddle but the two of them seemed to be getting on well.

  “Oh, I’m an idiot,” she exclaimed as she got under the bedcovers. “I went to all that trouble to persuade Claude Skinner to donate and overlooked the developer with bulging pockets who I’m in business with.”

  Leaving a reminder for the morning to harangue Shaun Hayes until he coughed up at least something towards the replacement gifts, Marjorie fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  “But you have to come along,” Esme pleaded as Marjorie set up her café for opening. “If you’re not there, Shaun will have no problem turning us down flat.”

  “No, he won’t.” At her friend’s pouting expression, Marjorie laughed and pinched her cheek. “I can give you a handwritten letter begging for the money if you like, but I need to get this place open.”

  “I can look after the café.” Esme grabbed an apron off the stack and picked Toil off a nearby tabletop before he could consign the printed menu to the floor. She wasn’t quick enough to save the neighbouring table where Trouble was showing off his talents. “You know I’ve got this in hand. I watch the place for you often enough when you need something.”

  The statement might just have been part of her arsenal to manipulate Marjorie into doing what she wanted, but it worked well because it was true. A year before, they’d probably shared their responsibilities to monitor each other’s businesses equally but in the past six or seven months, Marjorie had used the service a lot more than the masseuse had.

  “Okay. You get to play with the kittens while I beg for money from my business partner.” Marjorie took unwound her apron and gave Monkey Business a pat.

  “Well, you don’t have to go yet,” Esme protested as a tourist van pulled up outside. “He won’t be at work until ten at the earliest.”

  Marjorie hesitated long enough for her friend’s eyes to grow panicked, then relented. “I’ll wait until after the morning tea rush.” She tied the apron back on again as a dozen customers wandered through the front doors.

  It was a surprisingly busy day with enough people dropping by to make it worth opening. Just as Marjorie thought she’d have a decent chance to abscond and meet with Shaun, Lillian Skinner walked inside, clutching her purse chain as though defending it against a mugger.

  Marjorie pulled a face at Esme, then turned a bright smile on the unexpected guest. “What would you like?”

  “Is there somewhere we can chat for a moment?” Lillian glanced over her shoulder with a posture so stiff she appeared robotic.

  “Sure, grab the table in the corner,” Marjorie said, pointing to one with no occupied neighbours nearby. “I’ll bring along a couple of coffees.”

  “You mightn’t need to make that trip after all,” Esme whispered. “Now go sit beside her and I’ll deal with the drinks.”

  Marjorie sat opposite Lillian, relaxing her muscles in direct proportion to the stiffness in the other woman. As Toil and Trouble dashed over, she plucked them up, one in each hand, and passed one kitten across while keeping the other in her lap.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t…” Mrs Skinner held her hands up to either side while the black kitten sniffed at her suit jacket with curiosity. It was warm enough outside already to make the extra layer redundant, but Marjorie surmised the woman probably wore it no matter how hot the day.

  “It’s what the kittens are here for,” she said, laughing as Trouble launched himself up her chest to pad his oversized paws on her shoulder. “If you’re worried about hairs on your clothing, I’ve got a stock of lint rollers by the door.”

  Lillian gave the kitten a cautious pat, then became more involved as Toil reacted to her strokes. “My son would love this place,” she said with a long sigh. “Claude doesn’t believe in keeping pets, but Toby wants to adopt every animal he sees.”

  “How old is Toby again?”

  “He just turned fourteen a month ago and has become quite the little adult.” Lillian smiled for the first time since entering the café. “We bought him a suit for a school play he had the lead role for and when he puts it on, he’s like a mini-me version of Claude. It’s adorable.”

  “Bring him by if you think he’d like the kittens.” Marjorie broke off into a set of giggles as Trouble nosed around the back of her neck. “We don’t get many children here but he’s more than welcome.”

  “I’ll mention it. With the school holidays, I’m finding it hard to keep him occupied all day.”

  Esme brought over the coffees and, seeing there was no one needing a refill, sat with them. “What did you come in here for? Did your husband reconsider the donation?”

  “Oh, no.” Lillian’s shoulder hunched, and she blushed a deep crimson. “Sorry to mislead you, if that’s what you thought. No, I came here because I’ve made a silly mistake.”

  She took a sip of coffee, then drained the cup. Marjorie sat back, repositioning Trouble and letting the woman speak in her own time.

  “Those gifts I brought to the community centre,” she finally said in a halting voice. “I accidentally picked up a box that shouldn’t have been included.”

  “Oh my goodness. And now they’ve been stolen!” Marjorie leaned over to pat Lillian’s forearm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s just…” The woman broke off as a tear rolled down her face. “I thought there might be a chance it was still at the centre. You see, it was an unsealed box, and the contents didn’t match the outside…”

  Marjorie nodded. “If that’s true, it wouldn’t have been wrapped and placed with the others. From what Allie told me, there are some checks that every donated present goes through and if they don’t pass, they don’t go under the tree.”

  Lillian’s eyes brightened. “So the mistaken box might still be at the community centre?”

  “It could be.” Marjorie frowned, trying to remember if Allie or the others had mentioned what they did with the rejects. She didn’t want to bother the woman if the information was available elsewhere. From what she’d seen, Allie was skating close to the edge of her endurance for nonsense. “Felix, Dotty, and Braden were the ones dealing with the gift collection and wrapping,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “I’ll call Braden and see if he knows where the box is now.”

  But when she dialled his number, it went straight to voicemail. “I’ll leave a message and get back to you when he replies. What did the box look like?”

  “Hm?”

  “If you give me a description, I’ll get Braden to bring it around to you or pick it up myself.”

  “Gosh, no.” Lillian seemed appalled at the idea. “I’m not having people running all over town to correct my mistake. If he tells me where it’s likely to be, I’ll sort it out from there.” She deposited Toil on the floor and stood up, opening her purse. “How much for the coffee?”

  “On the house,” Marjorie said at the same time Esme
quoted the price. “You really don’t have to—”

  “I can afford to pay,” Lillian said, passing over a far higher bill than was needed. “And if you don’t want to take it, you can put it towards the replacement Christmas present fund.”

  “Deal,” Esme said, snatching up the money as though afraid Marjorie would open her mouth again and make it disappear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I have to say, I’m insulted.” Shaun Hayes leaned back in his chair, swivelling to one side so he could stare out the window. “There’s almost no one left in the business district this week except for me, yet you still found another man to approach first.”

  “We were saving the best for last,” Marjorie said, hoping her act of enthusiasm would cover her embarrassment. “And I only thought of Claude Skinner first because I’d helped his wife haul her donated gifts into the community centre a few days ago.”

  “I have a good mind to decline the offer because of it.”

  Her shoulders sagged and Marjorie suddenly felt like weeping. After Shaun, she had no ideas left and going door to door wouldn’t get them over the line in time.

  “Jeez, I was just kidding,” Shaun said in a concerned voice as her head dropped. “Have a tissue.”

  He pushed a box across the table and Marjorie blew her nose. “Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “I’m not surprised. The entire community is upended when something like this happens. I used to think this was a safe town.”

  “Me too.” Marjorie pushed her frizzy hair out of her eyes. “Even with people starting to rally around, everything feels off-kilter.”

  Shaun gave an unexpected laugh. “Look at that!” He pointed out the window. “I take it back.”

  Jon and his friends had set up a mat in the middle of the paved area in the park. While a small pair of speakers blared music, he dropped to the ground and started to breakdance.

  “Who’d have thought that style would come back,” Shaun said, shaking his head. “I used to try that myself during the eighties.”

  “Really?” Marjorie stood up and moved to the window for a closer look. “Were you any good?”

  “Come on.” Shaun clapped his hands together and held open the office door for her to exit. “Let’s see exactly how many moves this old dinosaur has left in him.”

  Marjorie flashed an astonished expression at the secretary as she passed by, gesturing for her to follow along. Part of her thought it was a joke until Shaun crossed the street and held up a hand in greeting to the small group that was assembling. “Allow me to demonstrate the old-school methods. Anyone care to pay for a request?”

  A couple who’d stopped to watch burst out laughing and tossed a handful of gold coins into the hat positioned in front of the mat. “How about a windmill?” the woman asked, clutching onto her partner’s arm in excitement. “Bonus points if you make it through without breaking a hip.”

  The receptionist burst into laughter as her boss dropped to the mat and began to gyrate his legs out, letting the momentum swing him from one angle to the next. He stopped with his legs straight out, ankles crossed together, posing up on one elbow. An ending that was greeted with much applause.

  “Head spin,” a new arrival called out, clapping in time to the music. Marjorie looked on in wonder as Shaun made it through the move alive and cupped a hand around his ear in anticipation for the next shouted request.

  “Is he your business partner?” Jon asked, coming to stand beside Marjorie. “Because the old dude’s got some sweet moves.”

  “He is. I was halfway through asking him for the rest of the money when he saw you.” She stopped and gasped as Shaun jackhammered, her wrist aching in sympathy. “I had no idea he planned on raising it this way.”

  Shaun jumped to his feet, moving to the edge of the mat and waving Jon’s mates onto centre stage. “I’d better let you guys take over. Don’t want to show you up.” As the new dancers broke out their moves, he leaned over to Marjorie and whispered, “I think my body just reminded my head it’s not as young as it thinks it is.”

  “You did well,” Jon said in admiration, holding out his hand to shake. “If my old man tried something like that, he’d be on his way to hospital by now.”

  “Is this fundraising for the Christmas party?” Shaun jerked his head at the cap now filling rapidly with coins. “Because I’m happy to hand over my credit card to top up the balance if you’ve got someone ready to buy the presents.”

  “Thank you,” Marjorie cried, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s wonderful.”

  “We’re happy to do the shopping,” Jon said with a grin. “And we’ve got Felix lined up to help with the wrapping.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Me and my mates tried but they don’t exactly look professional.”

  “I’m sure the children won’t mind,” Marjorie whispered back.

  Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out to see an image of Braden and Shadow on the floor, bums in the air, eating—or pretending to eat—from food bowls. With a snort, Marjorie dialled his number. “It looks like you found something in common.”

  “I’ll bond with anyone over food and he’s turned into a dab hand at the controller.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Mm-hm. He also dispatched a particularly nasty zombie attack by crawling over the remote.”

  She quickly interpreted the sentence in her head. “He turned off the TV screen?”

  “That’s the one. I’m afraid to turn it back on and see the damage.”

  “Did you see my message?”

  “Yeah. Felix and Dotty took care of all that. I think they’ve stashed the rejected presents in their spare room until after the party. They were going to go through them with a fine-tooth comb later and I offered to auction them off since I’m doing the electronics, anyway.”

  “So there’s a chance the missing box will be in their house?”

  “A good chance. They were rigorous about sorting the gifts when I went out collecting with them. I can still see the heartbroken face of Carly Mann when Dotty tore off her beautiful wrapping paper to ensure the item inside really was a doll.”

  “Ouch.” Despite knowing the reasons, Marjorie winced. “And we’ve got an update on the donations.”

  “Shaun came through?”

  “With flying colours. Just a moment…” She waved Shaun back onto the dance mat and took a quick photograph. “He earned extra through unexpected means.”

  Braden chuckled. “We should make sure that image takes the front cover of the next community newspaper. It’s a keeper.”

  “I’ll pass on your appreciation.”

  She hung up, smiling, and tried to dial Lillian’s number. “Does nobody have their phones turned on anymore,” she grumbled as it hit the woman’s voicemail and she had to send a text message instead.

  Just as she finished, her phone vibrated again, this time with a social media notification. A message flashed up on the screen from the Lykoi breeder. “I remember Shadow and have the name of another person who had an interest in purchasing him.”

  “Yay,” she said, raising eyebrows from Shaun and Jon. “It’s kitten business, not Christmas business.” Marjorie moved to a seat and began to type a message into her phone with awkward thumbs.

  “I’d love to have the second name. Unfortunately, the owner died and we’re looking to rehouse the kitten.”

  A shocked emoji came back, followed a moment later by another message.

  “The other interested party was Martin Thorpe.”

  Marjorie stared at the screen with her brow furrowed. What was the polite way to say to a stranger, “You’re wrong?”

  “That’s the name of the owner who died,” she typed back. “Who was the other person?”

  “Really? I sold Shadow to a man named Claude Skinner. I’d almost completed the transaction with Martin when Claude swooped in and paid double. Although I felt awful for selling the kitten out from under him, I couldn’t pass up the o
ffer.”

  Marjorie stared at the message for so long the screen darkened.

  Martin owned a kitten paid for by Claude Skinner. A gift that at double the going rate must have cost him close to ten thousand.

  She replaced the phone in her pocket, frowning into mid-air. Had Martin somehow stolen the kitten from Claude? No, that didn’t make sense. She could hear Lillian’s breathy voice in her ear. “Claude doesn’t believe in keeping pets.”

  What on earth was going on?

  “Come on,” Jon shouted to her. “Don’t you want to come to Christchurch to pick out the new presents?”

  Marjorie shook her head to clear it and smiled. “I’d love to, but I need to get back to the café. Do you have someone else to help?”

  The two mates standing close by nodded vigorously, and she laughed. “Call me when you get back to town and I’ll help with the wrapping.”

  Jon waved, jogging backwards towards the community centre van. “Will do!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’ve been rushed off my feet,” Esme declared when Marjorie made it back to the café. The masseuse wiped a hand over her brow with a theatrical flourish and sank into a chair.

  The rest of the seats were empty and, judging by the tables’ pristine surfaces, the last occupants were long gone. A few kittens were on their feet, playing, but the majority sagged in the corner, dozing.

  “Yeah, it looks hectic,” Marjorie said, flapping a teatowel at her friend. “Thank you for covering.”

  “I’ve paid myself out of your display case.” Esme patted her stomach. “But if you want to sit and have a bite, I think there’s room.”

  Marjorie made them each a coffee and piled a plate high with an assortment of scones, muffins, and biscuits. Once upon a time, she’d thought baking every day would soon cure her sugar addiction—a faint hope quickly banished.

  “You missed a real sight in town,” she said, queuing up the picture she’d taken of Shaun. “And Jon is en route to Christchurch with a list of goodies to collect and bring home. He might call us later. I offered to help with wrapping.”